


Save Me

by Silwyna



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-15
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silwyna/pseuds/Silwyna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Detroit, 2010. The war is lost and Sam is going to say yes. But the fight isn't over and the Winchesters still have one plan left to save the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful betas Yor and Blacklid.

**Save me**

by Silwyna

**Detroit, Viking Motel, 2010**

Dean cast one last glance out of the window before he closed the blinds to shut out the world and the demons surrounding the motel. With a tinge of despair, he turned to Sam.

"We'll never get out of here," he said, resigned.

Sam returned the glance with a determined look in his eyes. "We'll get out," he said, resolutely. "All of us."

Both brothers looked over to Bobby, who lay on a battered bed in the corner. Despite their combined efforts, his wounds were still bleeding. Without official medical care, he wouldn't make it much longer.

Dean felt a wave of pain surge through him, so intense, it left him breathless for a moment. It was a horrific pain. He'd experienced it when their Dad had died and when he'd held Sam's limp body in his arms; he vaguely remembered it from when their house had burned down, his mother still inside ... Bobby was family.

And like every member of his family, Dean was losing him too.

"I have an idea," Sam said quietly.

Dean knew that tone. It meant he wouldn't like whatever crazy idea Sam had come up with.

"Do I want to hear it?" he sighed.

"Probably not, but we don't have much choice."

Dean forced his eyes away from Bobby and looked at his brother. Sam stood unwavering before him.

Dean wondered how after everything, Sam still found the energy to keep fighting. Dean didn't want to admit it out loud, but he had already given up.

They had lost.

"A deal," Sam said and every alarm bell in Dean went up like crazy.

"No," he said sharply. They were done making deals. Nothing good had ever come from it.

Sam went on as if he hadn't heard him. "I'll say yes… to Lucifer. In return, he'll let you go. You can get Bobby to a hospital and ..."

"No, Sam!" Dean cut in, furious. "No way! Have you lost your mind? We agreed — no more deals!” He raked his hand through his hair in frustration. “You don't make deals with the devil and more importantly, you don't agree to be his vessel!"

"Dean, listen ..."

"Damn it, Sam, have you learned nothing from all the stupid mistakes we’ve made over the years? You make a deal with Lucifer and it won't matter anymore if Bobby and I get out of here. He'll destroy the world!"

"Not if we stop him. Dean, when I say I have a plan it involves more than just saying yes."

Dean knew he didn't want to hear it, but he knew his brother and when Sam had a plan, it almost always was a good one. He looked to Bobby. One that could work; no matter how much Dean might be against it.

So despite everything that had happened the last year, despite all their arguments, Ruby and the demon blood, Dean stayed quiet and listened to what Sam had to say.

For just a moment, he thought he heard Bobby calling them idjits.

**Stanford, Halloween 2005**

Sam was dreaming. Weird dreams of hot nurses, the Brady's having dinner with a bizarre zombie version of the Crosby’s, himself writing his LSATs with his father and brother watching him, accusation in their eyes.

The dreams woke him up every now and then and each time Sam wished he hadn't drank those last few glasses of whatever it was Simon had put in front of them.

It was close to 5 am when he woke up for what felt like the hundredth time. This time though, he didn't fall back asleep right away.

Sam couldn't explain why, but all his internal alarms suddenly sounded. Except for Jess' soft snoring he hadn't heard anything in the apartment, and yet he had the distinct feeling someone was there.

Someone - _something?_ \- had broken into their home.

Careful not to wake Jessica, Sam climbed out of the bed and grabbed the baseball bat that stood next to their bedroom door. It wasn't as good as a shot gun, but much easier to explain to people who hadn't grown up like he had.

The bat in front of him, he slinked through the apartment. In the living room, he found his suspicions confirmed. Someone was there. He tightened his grip around the bat, ready to attack at the right moment.

When the intruder turned to him and the moon light fell on his face, Sam nearly dropped the bat in surprise. With wide eyes, he stared at the man in front of him.

"Dean?"

**Detroit, Viking Hotel, 2010**

“LUCIFER!” Sam screamed.

Dean stood next to him, the Colt raised. It wouldn’t work, not on the devil himself, but it still made him feel better.

“This is crazy,” he mumbled. “It’s a horse shit plan. It’s by far the most stupid thing we’ve ever done. I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is …”

“Dean.” Sam glared at him before he turned back to the door and continued screaming for Lucifer.

It was just like the evil son of a bitch to keep them waiting.

“It's suicide, you know that, right?”

Sam shrugged. “We both died a long time ago, anyway.”

“We’ll go straight back to hell.”

“I’ve never been to hell … I think. And technically, it’s not suicide. It’s murder.” Sam pointed out.

Dean raised a brow. “Says the hotshot lawyer wannabe!”

Sam chuckled and in that exact moment, Lucifer appeared between them.

Sam’s smile froze and with an expression full of hate, the likes of which Dean had never seen on his brother before, Sam glared at the devil.

“You called.” Lucifer said, a smug smile on his lips.

Sam took a deep breath and made the deal.

When Sam said yes, Dean felt a part of himself die.

**Stanford, Halloween 2005**

Dean couldn't take his eyes off his brother. He had forgotten how young Sam had once looked. Young and innocent, not quite the normal college student he was going for - the hunter in him was still visible to everyone who knew to look for the signs - but he came close enough. There was no pain in his eyes, no anger, no hate.

Sam still looked like _Sam_.

Dean couldn't stop looking at him. He wanted to savor this moment. It had been so long ... too damn long.

"Hey, Sammy," he eventually choked out. He was surprised how familiar the word still felt on his lips. It had been years since he had used it.

Too long ...

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, the surprise still clearly audible in his voice.

"I was looking for a beer," Dean said. His voice didn't quite hold the lightness he had been aiming for.

He wanted to be with Sam, _his_ Sam, for just a little while longer.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked again, putting emphasis on each word. He began to sound impatient, slightly angry, and it all felt so damn familiar.

"I came to see you," Dean said, the words feeling heavy. He didn't want to have this conversation, not yet. He wanted more time.

Sam was already moving to the light switch though and Dean knew he was running out of time. As soon as Sam saw his face in full light, he would know.

"Sam, wait ..." he began, but it was too late. The lights flared up and for a moment, Dean was blinded by the brightness. It had been a while - too long - since he'd seen anything this bright.

"Sam ..." he began, but Sam stopped him.

The moment his brother saw his face, his whole body went into attack mode. His grip tightened as he raised the bat.

"Who are you?" Sam asked angrily.

"It's me, Sammy," Dean said, forcing his voice to remain calm. He needed Sam to believe him. If he didn't ... then Dean wasn't sure he could do what he came here for.

"Who. Are. You?" Sam asked again through clenched teeth.

"I'm Dean Winchester," Dean tried again. "It's me, Sammy. I'm not a shape shifter or a demon or ... anything. I'm your brother."

Sam huffed. "My brother is twenty six years old, not forty!"

It was ridiculous under the circumstances, but Dean did feel slightly offended. "Dude, I’m only thirty eight."

Sam looked at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. Then his eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, still holding up the baseball bat.

"You know, if I were any of those things, that bat isn't gonna help you for shit." Dean pointed out dryly.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Sam replied, and for a moment Dean feared he was going to attack him with the bat right here and now.

Defensively, he held up his hands. "Ask me anything," he said quickly. "Anything only I ... only Dean Winchester would know the answer to."

Sam raised a brow. "If you're a shape shifter, you already know all the answers."

"Cut me with silver then and throw a bottle of holy water at me," Dean suggested, suppressing a sigh. He had definitely gone through those tests one time too often. "Or just let me explain."

Dean held his breath as he waited for what Sam would do next. He wasn't sure what he preferred. If Sam insisted on these tests, it would give them more time. Knowing Sam, he wouldn't be satisfied with just the silver and holy water. He would try any test in the book. It would be painful and annoying - but it would give them more time.

If Sam was satisfied with letting him explain, then this would all be over in a few minutes.

Dean knew what it was going to be even before Sam spoke up again.

"Explain," Sam said. He sounded calm, but the threat of beating Dean up with the bat was still audible in his voice.

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota, 2010**

One moment, Dean had been staring at Sam who wasn’t Sam anymore, the next he was standing in Bobby Singer’s living room, empty space in front of him.

Their plan had worked. Lucifer had let him and Bobby go.

The older hunter lay on his couch on the other side of the room, still bleeding from numerous wounds. Dean could save him now. All he had to do was call an ambulance… or an angel.

That was the plan anyway, wasn’t it? Call an angel and save the world.

It had only cost him his brother.

“Castiel!” he shouted. At the same time, he pulled out his cell phone and called an ambulance.

The ambulance actually arrived before Castiel did. Dean didn’t see the angel until he was sitting at Bobby’s bedside in the hospital and waiting for the older hunter to wake up.

He was all the family he had left.

Sam was gone.

“Dean.”

Dean sighed and slowly turned around. “You took your time.”

Castiel shrugged and slightly tilted his head. “I was busy. Things changed.”

“I know.”

“Your brother …”

“I know!” Dean interrupted him sharply. “We have a plan.”

“A plan.” Castiel looked at him skeptically. “Your brother agreed to be Lucifer’s vessel. Do you have any idea what that means? It’s over.”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s not; because you are going to send me back in time.”

Castiel frowned. “I can’t.”

Dean felt the blood run cold in his veins. “What?”

“When I got cast out of heaven, I lost most of my powers." Castiel explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world to know. "Dean, I can’t send you anywhere.”

**Stanford, Halloween 2005**

"Time travel," Dean said simply.

Sam raised a brow. "Time travel?" he asked dryly. He looked at Dean more closely. "Are you drunk?"

"Drunk doesn't make me look ten years older," Dean pointed out.

"Twelve years." Sam shot back. "You said you were thirty-eight."

"You really would have made a good lawyer." Dean growled.

Sam looked at him surprised. "How do you know about that?"

"I told you, Sammy." Dean gave him a sad smile. "Time travel."

Sam still looked skeptical, but stayed quiet. Dean took this as his cue to go on.

"I got sent back in time," he said, and then didn't know how to go on. The words seemed to stick in his mouth and really ... he didn't want to continue. He didn't want to destroy Sam's world, not when everything about this apartment spoke of how happy his brother was.

He didn't want to do any of this.

_"This is the only way to save me, Dean."_

Sam's whispered words rang in his ears and despair welled up in him. This wasn't fair. None of it was.

"By whom?" Sam asked. "And why?"

When Dean looked at his brother, he saw a young man, full of life, ready to take on the world. Sam had what he always wanted. Normalcy… He had Jessica and Stanford and friends who cared deeply about him.

The first time Dean had set foot in this apartment, he had taken all that away from Sam. This time ...

"Dean?"

Dean swallowed. He didn't want to do any of this, but he didn't want those other things to happen either. He had no other choice.

"An angel sent me back," he said quietly.

Sam looked at him, surprised. Quickly, the look turned to one of awe and it nearly killed Dean. _This_ Sam still believed that angels were purely good; heaven's creatures who could do nothing wrong.

"Why?" Sam asked, his voice sounding hoarse. Slowly, he finally lowered the bat.

Dean felt tears well up in his eyes and he had to fight hard to keep them back.

"To kill you," he choked out.

**Detroit, Viking Motel, 2010**

“No.” Dean shook his head. “No, no way.”

“Dean …”

“No, Sam! I’m not gonna do it!”

“You promised.” Sam said calmly.

Dean gasped in outrage. “I did what? I think I would remember that promise, Sam.” Foaming with rage, Dean paced the room.

“February 2007, Cornwall, Connecticut.”

For a moment, Dean didn’t know what Sam was talking about. Then, he remembered.

_“If I ever turn into something that I'm not … You have to kill me. … Dean, please. You have to promise me.”_

He wished he could erase that night out of his memory.

_“I promise.”_

“That was three years ago, Sam,” he said defiantly, knowing fully well how lame it sounded. A promise didn't expire. Not even in their world.

Especially not in their world.

Sam gave him the look and Dean knew he had lost.

He couldn’t give up that easily, though. “I also promised to save you, Sammy. That promise holds more power than the other one.”

Sam cast him a sad look. “This is the only way to save me, Dean,” he said quietly.

Dean shook his head. “No. No, we’ll figure something out. We just need to …”

“Dean, even if we do get out of here …” Sam shrugged helplessly. “You can’t save me anymore. It’s too late.”

“Don’t say that, Sam,” Dean said, desperately fighting the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t stand seeing his brother look so lost … just as lost as he himself felt.

“If you want to save me, this is the only way.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. He didn’t want it to be true. But he realized there was no other way. His brother was right. “Sam …”

“It’ll be better this way.” Sam smiled sadly.

Dean couldn’t see how that could be. The world might be saved, but Sam would be dead.

**Stanford, Halloween 2005**

"An angel wants you to kill me?" Sam asked hoarsely after a long moment of silence. He sounded almost broken. "Why? What ... What did I do?"

Dean shook his head. He wanted to scream at Sam that just because an angel wanted him dead, it didn't mean he deserved it. Sam was better than any friggin’ angel out there.

He didn't have it in him to take away Sam's faith in God and angels at this point though; it seemed like too cruel a thing to do.

"You did nothing wrong, Sammy." Again, Dean shook his head, as if the motion could shake away the horrible truth. "You saved us."

Sam looked confused. "From what?"

"Lucifer."

Sam raised a brow. "Lucifer? As in the devil Lucifer?"

Dean shrugged helplessly. "It all just went wrong," he said, despair swinging in his voice.

Sam looked at him curious. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Dean didn't want to tell Sam, didn't want to put the hopelessness he felt deeply ingrained in himself in Sam's eyes with his words. At the same time, he did want Sam to understand why he came back.

He had no choice, in any of it.

"Jessica died … just like Mom," he began. He saw the recognition in Sam's eyes - his dreams must have already started.

Forcing down another wave of despair, Dean continued. "Dad died, and then I lost you, too. I brought you back and went to hell for it. An angel pulled me out. We started the Apocalypse and let Lucifer free. We lost pretty much everyone we know. Dad, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Ellen and Jo ..." He saw the confusion in Sam's eyes and remembered that his brother hadn't met the Harvelles yet. "Too many good people died in this war. We tried to fight Lucifer, but he kept winning. One day, he trapped us in this motel in Detroit. Bobby got badly injured. There was no way out." Dean swallowed. "We knew this was it. And then ... You had a plan." Dean stopped.

He looked at Sam who had gotten paler with each of Dean's words. He looked nothing like the hardened hunter Dean had left behind.

"What plan?" Sam asked in a whispered voice.

"You made a deal with the devil." Dean said, the irony of it all coming crashing down on him. Sam had been the last of the Winchesters to make a deal - it seemed fitting that it would doom and save them at the same time.

"What deal?" Sam asked hoarsely.

Dean swallowed hard, the horror of that moment when Sam had first suggested it once again running through him, making his blood run cold. "You agreed to become his vessel in order for him to let Bobby and me go." Dean paused a moment to let the information sink in.

Sam visibly struggled to grasp all Dean was saying.

"The plan was for me to find Castiel and go back here to ..." Dean couldn't say it.

"To kill me," Sam finished quietly for him.

Dean nodded solemnly. "You hoped to keep the plan hidden from Lucifer long enough for it to work. You obviously succeeded."

"Why would Lucifer agree to this? He's the _devil_. He can take anyone he wants as a vessel."

Dean had missed this - Sam asking questions endlessly until he had the whole picture. He had done this from the moment he could talk.

He didn't even stop when it was his own death they were discussing.

Dean suddenly felt sick. What was he doing here? Was he really going to kill his own brother? The kid who had always looked up to him? The baby he had held in his arms? How was he supposed to do that?

_“If I ever turn into something that I'm not … You have to kill me.”_

_"If you can't save your brother ..."_

Dean had never failed more in saving anyone.

"Dean?"

"Lucifer needs someone strong enough to keep him in for eternity. You were the only one who fit that description." Dean said quietly. He felt empty inside. He looked at Sam, _this_ Sam, and he looked nothing like someone fitting that description.

Dean swallowed and forcefully pulled himself together. He was running out of time. The angel might be able to keep Jessica asleep until the end of the world - literally - but soon his younger self would show up here to get Sam. It had to be over by then.

"Why me?" Sam asked again, more urgently this time.

He wanted the whole story - same old Sam, never satisfied with just half of it.

Dean hesitated a moment, and then began telling it all. There really was no use in hiding it. Sam would just keep asking.

So, he told Sam about Azazel and the demon blood, their mother's deal, Sam's visions, Ruby and how she had made him stronger. He told him about Cold Creek, Jake, the Colt and the gate to hell. He told him about his own time in hell and how he broke the first seal. He told him about Lilith and how Sam broke the last seal. He told him about the angels, good and bad. He told him that in two days, Jessica would die, her stomach slit, burning on the ceiling.

When he was done, Sam had sunk on the couch and stared at Dean with eyes that reminded Dean too much of the Sam he had left behind.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Dean sat down on the armchair across from Sam, feeling too weary to keep standing. He pulled out his gun and laid it openly on the table between them.

Sam's eyes went from Dean to the gun and back to Dean.

"If we both started this, why do only I have to die?" Sam eventually asked. "Not that I want you to die," he added quickly, "it's just ..."

"I haven't left anything out, if that's what you were wondering." Dean said quietly. "This just goes to show what you lack in the making plans division," he smiled sheepishly at Sam.

"You have to be my brother if you're trying to be funny minutes before you kill me," Sam said dryly.

It felt like a punch to the stomach, but at the same time Dean appreciated the familiar banter. He had missed it. He had missed _Sam_.

"Trying to?" He replied with the attempt of a grin. It felt wrong and quickly faded and Dean once more felt despair well up in him. "So, you do believe I'm your brother? And that everything I told you is true?" He asked hesitantly after a moment.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I believe you."

It was what Dean had been hoping for, and yet it came as a surprise.

"Why?" he asked quietly.

A sad look flashed through Sam's eyes. "The dreams ... I didn't want to believe they meant something, but somehow I knew ... I knew something was changing."

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota, 2017**

Dean felt as if in a haze as he slowly walked back to the house. He hardly noticed the shovel slipping out of his hand.

They were all dead now. Bobby had been the last one.

He was all alone now.

He wanted to be angry. He wished he could cry. He wanted to scream, punch something or someone. He wanted to get into the Impala and drive until the end of the world.

But the Impala was among those things gone and he had no energy left to do any of the other things.

He was hurting, not just emotionally – he wasn’t sure if he was even still capable of feeling anything except physically. That last battle with Lucifer – _Sam! _– and his minion demons had taken a lot out of him. His body seemed to be one big bruise and he knew he had to stitch up at least two of his wounds if he didn’t want to slowly bleed to death.

Burying Bobby had come first. It was all Dean had been able to think about on the ride back to his friend’s home. Giving his friend – _his family_ – the proper burial he deserved.

It would be his last funeral. The next to go would be him.

He sometimes wondered if something of Sam was left. Was his brother still fighting inside of his body? Dean didn’t know what it felt like to be possessed. More than once, he regretted that he had never asked Sam. His brother had talked about it, once, in a quiet, pained voice. Dean had listened, but he hadn’t pushed. At one point, Sam had just stopped, as if the memory had become too much. Dean had never asked again and Sam had stayed silent about it from there on.

Was Sam still there? Would he mourn him the day Lucifer would finally get to him? It couldn’t take much longer, anymore. He had no back-up, he was hurting, and he was tired. They had lost the war, the angels had left and Lucifer ruled the earth – the ever black sky spoke of that every second of the day.

He wondered if Lucifer had ever found out about their crazy plan. Was he laughing at their stupidity? Their arrogance, to believe they could trick the devil himself?

“You look like shit.”

Dean froze as the words pulled him out of his thoughts. Blinking, he took in his surroundings and, for the first time, he noticed that he had already entered the house. He was standing in the hallway, right in front of the living room where the floor was still covered by books – books no one would read or touch ever again.

Dean didn’t plan on staying.

“A hello would be nice.”

Dean pulled himself together. He might be tired, but he wasn’t gonna get killed in Bobby’s home. The older hunter had always prided himself with how demon proofed his house was. Those last few years, it had resembled more of a fort than a home.

Fighting the urge to collapse at any given moment, Dean pulled his gun – Sam’s gun really, but he had long stopped thinking about it like that; it hurt too much. Slowly and carefully, he entered the living room.

He didn’t believe his eyes when he saw the familiar man sitting in Bobby’s armchair. This was it, he’d gone insane. He knew it would happen eventually – he just hadn’t thought it would happen this fast.

“Long time, no see, Dean.” Gabriel said with a smug smile.

Dean hadn’t thought it was possible, but after all these years, after everything, he felt hope again.

**Stanford, Halloween 2005**

Sam still sat across from Dean on the couch, looking at him wearily. "So ..." he swallowed. "When are you ... you know … " he vaguely waved at the gun still lying on the table between them.

Never, a voice screamed inside of Dean's head. "It has to be soon," he whispered.

Sam nodded. “Okay, then.” He cleared his throat and got up.

Dean didn’t know what Sam expected him to do now. Questioning, he looked at his brother.

“How had you planned this?” Sam asked, his voice sounding strange. He looked like he wanted to run away and a big part of Dean wished he would do just that. But then it would all happen again, wouldn’t it?

_"This is the only way to save me, Dean."_

Something broke inside of Dean as he slowly stood up.

“Sam …” he started, but didn’t know how to continue.

Sam smiled sadly at him. “It’s okay, Dean.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean stood before his brother, at a loss for words and unable to do anything. This was it. The chance they all had been waiting for. Sam’s plan. Defeat the devil before he could even rise. End this, once and for all. He just needed to grab his gun and pull the trigger. One bullet, it was all they needed. It was a simple plan, really. But he couldn’t move and he couldn’t think and _he didn’t know what to do_.

“It’s okay.” Sam said again and Dean felt something pushed into his hand.

He looked down and saw the gun. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said again as he slowly raised the gun.

Sam smiled as he took a step back, readied himself.

Dean’s hand shook as it never had when pointing the gun at anything. He grabbed the weapon tighter and willed his hand to still.

“Don’t miss.” Sam said, his voice hoarse.

Dean’s hand went still. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. When he pulled the trigger, the last part of him still alive died.

It felt like an eternity, until he dared to open his eyes again. Sam wasn’t standing in front of him anymore.

Dean felt his body shaking with tremors as he slowly lowered his eyes to the floor.

There he was. Sam, lying in his own blood, killed by his own brother.

His legs gave in and Dean sunk to the ground. Sobs racked his body as he sat next to Sam, whose lifeless eyes stared at him. With a shivering hand, Dean closed them and broke down.

He didn’t know how long he sat next to his dead brother. Eventually, he forced himself to get up. He put the gun back on the table and sat down on the couch.

It wasn't over yet, not quite. There was one last thing to be done. Sam had been right when questioning their plan. He wasn’t the only one who needed to die.

Not being able to take his eyes away from his brother, Dean waited for his younger self to walk through the door.

In less than an hour, this would all be over.

The end


End file.
